Kill Them Before They Breed

My eldest daughter, age 19, has a friend. This friend has a car. This friend with a car also has one other thing. A Big, freakin' empty head.

Let me take an inventory. In the past two months they have blown 2 tires while joy riding to Denton, the twit ran out of gas twice in my DRIVEWAY, and then the brain trust that is comprised of my shitwit daughter and brain dead friend decided that the 5 gallon gas can was too heavy and grabbed the small one gallon can from the yard shed. This is the one my husband keeps the special mix gas for the chain saw and leaf blower. Loud and smokey? Try using the right gasoline, Lazy and Stupid, and by the by, you may want to put some fuel injector cleaner in with a new tank of gas.

So, on Friday night, last, they decide they are going to Houston to visit my daughters' father for the Big Dad Weekend. Because, you know, it's Fathers Day and he might buy us something! They get a mile or so from the house and run out of gas. Uhm, there are about 6 or 7 gas stations just on your way to the highway, and about 3 RIGHT BY OUR HOUSE and none of you thought it a wise decision to fill up on the way out of town?

Anyway, my husband, God bless his soul, broke off a game he was playing and took the re-filled gas can (that's 2 5 gallons and one 1 gallon in less than a week, if you're updating your score card) to get them restarted. He returned shaking his head and looking about with utter disgust. Apparently, after he got her car started yet again, she takes off and passes 3 gas stations. My husband called my daughter in the car and told them to stop at the truck stop they were close to. He pulled in and told her that she was filling up NOW, and then proceeded inside to buy the fuel injector cleaner that neither in the Brain Trust had remembered.

They make it safely to Houston. The ONLY reason I know this is that my youngest daughter posted a comment on Facebook. So, yesterday afternoon the phone rings, it's my oldest daughter. Her friend's car won't start. NO! You've got to be kidding me. Oh, and my ex, the most mechanically disinclined person on the planet, the person to whom a pair of pliers once bested him, is messing about under her hood in an attempt to be a man. I get my husband on the phone immediately and he advises them to buy a new battery cable and we wait. At 10 PM last night I finally call my daughters and find out the car never started and it might be the starter, but they plan on being home by noon today.

Noon comes and goes. Just got a call from my youngest, they will be leaving in about an hour. The dealership fixed the starter and they will be home after my daughter's friend signs over her soul and first born for a dealership to fix the starter.

The devil will get half his bargain. I'm not letting that moron breed.